


come together

by bottomlinsons



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, One Night Stands, Pining, group project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 13:33:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomlinsons/pseuds/bottomlinsons
Summary: Harry and Louis slept together three weeks ago, and haven't talked.Their coming group project is gonna change that.





	come together

**Author's Note:**

> title from the beatles (aka the og one direction) x

💔

Louis misses one class.

One bloody class.

And this happens.

He stares down at the list of names in abject horror. Once he’s done processing — or not processing, as the case may be — he looks at Niall. “Tell me you’re fucking with me.”

Niall looks at him like he’s a loon. He peers over the top of the sheet in Louis’ hand, like he has to double check he’s given Louis the right information. He rocks back on his heels after a moment, apparently satisfied. “What? I think it’s a wicked group.”

Louis looks at the names again. Everyone’s clearly written their own name down, so there’s a range of different types of handwriting he has to decipher. It’s not too difficult though. There’s Niall’s name first, with a love heart dotting the ‘i’. Underneath that, there’s Maren’s name. Louis’ met her a few times through Niall, lovely girl. Then there’s Kasey, who Louis hasn’t spoken to quite as much. She’s always got something to say in tute discussions though, which is a good sign. So far so good.

Then there’s Harry’s name. He’s got quite nice handwriting himself, Louis can’t help but notice, even if the sight of it does send a weight sinking to the bottom of his stomach.

“Harry’s in our group?” Louis gazes up at Niall, one last, desperate attempt to get the fact straight in the hope that he’s got it wrong. Please, God, let him be wrong.

Niall nods though, and hope dies. “Sure is!”

Louis falls face first into their couch. It’s pretty disgusting — a smelly, red, two-seater that they found on their street about three days after they moved in — but Louis doesn’t have time to worry about that right now. He smooshes his face into fabric, caution in the wind.

Niall sits gingerly on the arm of the couch. He pets Louis’ hair. “Is there a problem?”

“No.” He says it into the couch. It comes out _‘nuuuuuuuuumph_.’  

“Well, I’m convinced.”

Louis rolls over. It’s not a smooth movement, but he manages it. When he’s twisted all the way around, staring up at the ceiling, Niall settles a hand in his hair. He doesn’t say anything. He knows Louis sometimes needs a build up before he comes clean.

All up, it isn’t the end of the world. So, he and Harry slept together; it’s not like they’re the first two people in history to have a bit too much red wine at a party and get a bit cuddly. And yeah, Harry snuck out the next morning, but that’s outside of Louis’ control. What’s he supposed to do about it?

“It’s not a problem,” Louis says resolutely. Doubt creeps in seconds later. “I don’t think.”

Niall makes a worried noise. “Do you need to change groups?”

Just floating that idea out loud makes Louis’ hair stand up. He shakes his head, hasty. “No. Then there’d definitely be a problem.”

Niall takes a deep breath, clearly thinking. “So, it’s not a problem _yet_?”

“No. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

It will be, surely. He and Harry never sat down and spoke about expectations. Harry had no reason to know that Louis was interested in something slightly longer term, or that Louis approaching him on the night of the party was the result of several drunken pep talks to himself. Louis wouldn’t hold him responsible for leaving the next morning the way he did. He didn’t know any better.

Still.

It was — well, it was a bit shit.

“But there is an it?” Niall doesn’t sound frustrated at how little information Louis’ giving him, because he’s the best bloke ever. He just sounds sympathetic, gentle.

Louis plants an arm across his face. “Yeah.”

Niall scratches absently at Louis’ scalp. It’s bloody heaven. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He probably could. Spilling his guts to Niall about the entire situation would probably be cathartic, and at the very least make him seem like less of a loon. Harry’s a nice guy, though. He and Niall get on, and Louis doesn’t want to drive a wedge through that. Niall will take his side, context-less, because he’s a mate. And rationally, Louis know this whole situation isn’t Harry’s fault.

He should have fucking said something. It’s all he’s been thinking about, in the weeks since he got to drink in Harry’s warm skin. What he could have said—what he _should_ have said, to make Harry understand. Even if Harry had turned him down, at least he would have known.

On the other hand, if Harry didn’t stick around on his own, well. That’s a pretty clear sign, isn’t it?

“Nah, I’m good,” Louis reaches up and grabs Niall’s hand from his hair. He tugs it down and plants on the back his biggest, slobberiest kiss.

Niall shrieks and the softness of the moment is gone, replaced for the next half hour with a very intense amateur wrestling match.

💔

Louis can be as rational as he wants in the days leading up to their next tutorial, he’s still bloody shitting bricks when the class does roll around.

He walks in hiding as much of his body as possible behind Niall. He doesn’t want to say that he’s been avoiding this class since he and Harry hooked up, but, well, that’s exactly what he’s been doing. It’s embarrassing to be caught out like this, because Harry must have noticed.

Although, fuck. What if he hasn’t even _noticed_?

“I’m dropping this class,” he hisses into Niall’s ear.

Niall elbows him in the gut. “Shut up, he’ll hear you.” Louis hasn’t told Niall the full story yet, but he’s certainly been able to connect some of the dots. Louis has a problem, and it’s a problem with Harry Styles. “You’re being a dick.”

Louis deflates. “Sorry.”

They stop when they get to their chairs. The class doesn’t have designated seats, but everyone’s settled happily into a pattern when it comes to the seating. He and Niall, blessedly, have two seats quite far up the back.

Niall drops into his chair, immediately digging through his bag to find a notebook. “It’s okay,” he says, more to his bag than to Louis. “It’s just, you said it was gonna be fine.”

Shame faced, Louis nods. “You’re right. It will be.”

That earns him a clap on the shoulder, one of Niall’s favoured motions of support, and Louis knows he’s forgiven. Good thing, too, because that’s when Harry chooses to walk through the door, and suddenly Louis needs all the support he can get.

He looks lovely, of course. He’s chatting to a friend, grinning as he does. He’s wearing a beanie, pulled all the way down and over his ears. It’s very cute.

Exactly as Louis’ telling himself not to stare, Harry’s gaze flicks up. Caught, the look lasts for a moment, maybe even less than that, before Harry glances swiftly away.

Stung, Louis looks down at the desk in front of him. Someone’s scraped ‘ _FUCK YOU’_ into the wood, which feels rather apt. Harry might as well have shouted it across the room.

He lets himself wallow in it for a minute before pulling himself together again. Niall is a good distraction, so he turns and, as casually as possible, floats the possibility of having ice cream for dinner. He deserves it. What follows is not so much a discussion as an enthusiastic planning session. Niall maps out which shops they’ll go past, and which flavours of ice cream he wants. Then they move onto toppings, and well, that’s more than enough for them to chat about until the professor calls them to attention.

“Right!” Her name is Sally, but Louis’ still not quite used to calling his professors by their first names, so he prefers to call her Professor Johns. “We’ve got your research project coming up, which you will be completing in groups of five. Those groups were assigned last week, so if you don’t know which group you’re in please feel free to come see me after this and I’ll find that for you. You have the rubric, which I’d like for you to go over today with your groups, to make sure you have a thorough understanding of my expectations. If you have any questions for me, today is the time to raise them.”

Two or three people head up to the front when she’s finished speaking, and Louis thinks about possibly joining them. It would be fairly easy to swap places with one of them, and land in a group that’s entirely stress free.

He was right the first time, though, when Niall brought up changing groups. If anything in the world is gonna clue Harry in to how uncomfortable Louis is, it’d be running away.

Because he and Niall have some of the best seats in the room, the rest of their group buddies gravitate towards them. Louis braces himself as Harry picks up his books and heads in their direction, the friend he’d been speaking to walking with him.

He’s not walking up to Professor Johns. That’s something, at least.

When Harry and his friend reach them, Harry doesn’t hesitate before taking the chair opposite Louis. It’s not what Louis was expecting. He blinks a bit. It’s difficult to maintain eye-contact, but it’d be worse to avoid it.

“Uh, hey.” Louis offers Harry his most casual smile.

Harry mimics it. “Hey.”

God, this is weird as fuck. He’s seen Harry’s nipples, all four of them for fucks sake. How are they finding it this difficult to say hello?

Louis clears his throat. “How are you?”

Harry nods. Louis doesn’t think he’s imagining that the movement is a bit rushed. “Good. You?”

Louis hums. “Yeah good.”

Harry smiles, but it’s a strange one. He keeps his lips closed over his teeth, which is just a little off putting, and certainly not something that Louis’ seen on Harry before. “That’s good.”

With no idea where to go from there, Louis just nods. He’s got his arms crossed on the desk, holding a little too tightly at his own elbows, and he can’t for the life of him remember when he put them there.

Harry stays quiet as well.

From Louis’ left, Niall clears his throat. His eyes are wide, like he’s trying to shoot Louis a look but knows that he can’t while everyone’s looking at him. “Uh,” he starts. It’s quite clear that he and their other two group members have heard Louis’ and Harry’s odd little exchange. “Right. Let’s get started. Does everyone know each other?”

It’s a blessed distraction.

Louis turns away from Harry and faces the girl on Niall’s other side. “Hey,” he reaches his hand out to take hers. He’s met her before, but he can’t for the life of him remember her name. “We met at Niall’s last gig. Louis?”

The girl’s eyes light up. “Oh, right! Sorry, Maren.”

As soon as she says it, Louis remembers the last time they were introduced, and feels like an idiot for forgetting.

The other girl, Harry’s friend, waves from Harry’s side. “I’m Kasey,” she says. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ve met anyone before. I’ve only just transferred.”

Niall grins at her. “Welcome! I’m Niall.”

She shakes his hand, then points at Louis and Maren, making sure she’s got their names right. “Awesome,” she says, when she’s apparently satisfied. “Shall we get started then?”

It’s easy enough to stay focused on the project. Louis keeps his head down, talking mostly to Niall and the girls when he needs to, He feels like a bit of a dick, but again, Harry is doing exactly the same thing.

They go over the project outline, divvying up the separate components and assigning them amongst themselves. About halfway through, Harry begins to drum his fingers on the desk. That only directs Louis’ attention to Harry’s fingers, which is a very dangerous path. His fingernails are painted a lovely dark red, the same colour they’d been when he and Louis had spent the night together. Seeing them, knowing where they’d — well.

Harry stops tapping his fingers suddenly. “Sorry,” he says, right as Louis looks up at him.

“What?”

Harry’s cheeks go a little pink. Louis’ definitely not imagining that. “Thought I was, uh,” Harry floats his hands in the air a little, as if he doesn’t know where to put them, “annoying you? Or something? Don’t worry.”

“Oh!” Louis shakes his head so fast he almost gets dizzy. “No, you’re fine. You’re good.”

Harry shoots him a look. It could be an attempt at a smile, but a very poorly executed on. “Right. Thanks.”

Three weeks ago, Harry had dragged those lips along Louis’ neck, and gasped in his ear. Louis had bitten and kissed at Harry’s jaw, his shoulders, his chest. When Harry had fucked him, he’d dug his fingernails into Harry’s arm and scraped at the skin there.

Now, they have this.

They steadfastly ignore one another for the rest of the class. When the fifty minutes finally comes to an end, Harry and Kasey vanish through the door faster than Louis has ever seen. It tears at something in Louis’ chest, disappointment fresh with a little bit of anger, but with that feeling comes relief. At least the class is done, for this week. Only nine more weeks to go.

Louis packs his things slowly, blinking away the heat behind his eyes, before swinging his bag over his shoulder. As they walk out of the classroom, Niall drapes his arm over Louis’ shoulder. “Think it’s definitely a problem, mate.”

Louis sighs. “Yeah. Me too.”

💔

They agree to meet up in the library to get started, the following Friday night. Louis has an evening class, so he’s a little bit later than the rest.

“Sorry,” he apologises in a rush as he arrives. “Biology tute ran over.”

Everyone else is already here, their books laid out in front of them. They’ve found a table that fits all of them and left the seat next to Niall free. Kasey’s on his other side. “All good,” she says. “We only just got started.”

Louis glances at them all quickly. Harry’s looking down at his book.

“We think we’ve figured out how we’ll split everything up,” Niall angles his notebook so that Louis can see. “Just have to decide who wants to do what.”

Maren’s got the end of her pen in her mouth, but she takes it out to ask, “Can I do the first review?” She peers down at her paper. “The one by, uh, Forsythe?”

Looking around the table, no one seems to have an issue with that. Niall writes her name down next to that section.

“I’ll do the one by Connelly, if that’s okay?” Louis’ already read that one and found it pretty insightful. There’s a few questions from the professor in that section that he’s already started to work on answers for.

Everyone nods again.

Harry clears his throat. “I’m pretty good at conclusions, so I’m happy to do that if no one else wants to?”

“That’s great, I _hate_ conclusions.” Niall quickly writes down Harry’s and Louis’ bits, then turns to Kasey. “You want the last review, or the introduction?”

Kasey thinks about it for a moment. “The last review, please.”

“Easy,”Niall notes that down too. “So, I’ll do the intro. Everyone happy?”

God, group projects are weird. Having to be so formal and diplomatic with his peers, it’s a feeling Louis’ not used to. He prefers the slightly more casual approach. It’s a good thing Niall’s taken the lead though. Louis barely knows what to think right now, let alone what he would say to rally the group.

“Alright, so the full thing is due in week seven.” It’s week three now, so they’ve got quite a bit of time. “Louis, Kasey, Maren. Do you think you can have your bits down by week five? That’ll give me and Harry a week to do our bits, then we have a week to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

Louis’ assignment schedule isn’t too busy over the next few weeks. The units he’s taking this semester are graded more by exams at the end of the term, rather than assignments during, so Niall’s timeline works for him.

“Wicked,” Niall says, when everyone agrees. “That’s us done then, I think? Is there anything else we need to add?”

No one has anything else. Maren heads off fairly quickly, leaving with them her university email and her phone number just in case anyone needs to get in touch. Louis and Niall don’t rush off though. They live a little off campus, and usually catch the bus to and from uni. The next bus won’t leave for an hour, and the library is air-conditioned, so they’re not in any hurry.

Surprisingly, Harry and Kasey stick around too. Harry pulls out a laptop, flipping it open.

He can’t be working on their project already — like Niall said, he’ll have to wait until they’ve finished their bits before he can start on his. So, he’s stayed to work on something else. Maybe he’s not so worried by Louis’ presence and Louis thought.

Conscious that he may be paying too much attention, Louis keeps his attention on his work. There's a couple of books that Professor Johns has suggested which reference his review and share opinions that she’s obviously deemed useful. He gets up from his place and snags one of the library computers, checking if any of them are still available.

They are, by some miracle, so he heads into the depths of the stacks to try and find them. He’s got two out of three balanced in his arms, when he hears someone clear their throat behind him.

He turns, and his mild surprise shifts into something far closer to shock.

“Hey,” Harry’s got his head bent a little, one arm up as he scratches at the back of his neck. He’s not really looking at Louis, his gaze focused somewhere a little to Louis’ left. That hurts, but not as much as the last few weeks, so it’s a little more manageable.

Louis swallows it down. “Hi.”

It’s pretty dark in the stacks, the library lights are pretty old and faded. It casts all sorts of shadows on Harry’s face, “I thought we could maybe talk or something.”

He doesn’t sound happy to be here. The only thing more reluctant in this situation is the beating of Louis’ heart.

Louis clenches his jaw. “Yeah.” Just the way he’s holding his body feels awkward now. Is he holding his hip strangely? What should he be doing with his free arm? “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

He’s not sure what Harry was expecting, but he seems surprised by Louis’ easy acceptance. He seems to stumble over the next few seconds, like he doesn’t know what to say. “So, uh,” he finally begins. “I know this is gonna be strange, but I don’t want to make it awkward for the other guys…”

Louis’ face goes hot — how fucking embarrassing is it, that Harry feels he needs to pull Louis aside and make sure he doesn’t make a fuss? He rushes to agree. “Yeah, me neither.”

Harry pauses, his gaze flicking to Louis, then back to the spot behind him. “Right. So, I was thinking. Maybe we just like, acknowledge this is awkward but also that we’re both adults? It doesn’t need to be weird.”

This conversation needs to end.

With jerky movements, almost out of his control, Louis nods again. “Yeah, no, absolutely.”

Christ, how uncomfortable must he have made Harry for him to search him out like this. That he even feels the need to sit down and make sure Louis isn’t going to make a fuss; it makes Louis chest compress, shrinking in on his lungs and heart.

“Okay,” Harry bites his lip. “Cool.”

“Yup.” He’s boxing Louis in, where he’s standing, so Louis can’t flee. All he can do is hope that Harry will leave, and hopefully soon. He doesn’t have to wait long.

With a final lingering look, something entirely unfamiliar in his eye, Harry nods and leaves him alone.

Louis doesn’t follow for a long while.

💔

He gets two short weeks to lick his wounds. He doesn’t talk to Harry at all, only because it’s not required. They don’t have any other group meetings until the review analyses are done, and they sit away from one another in their lectures and tutorials. Louis’ time is consumed by his part of the paper, which he wants to get absolutely right. It’s a little about doing well in the class, but more about proving to Harry that he’s got this, he’s _fine_ , and not distracted at all.

Unfortunately, he can only go over the same piece of writing ten or twenty times, before their second meeting is upon him. It’s at his and Niall’s place this time, instead of the library. It makes it easier for them to talk, and make sure that their argument has been consistent through the three separate reviews. Also, they can order pizza.

Harry shows up at the same time as the delivery guy. Louis’ paying when he walks up, and he refuses to let himself be distracted.

“Hey,” he says, casual. “The others are inside, you can head in.”

Harry doesn’t go straight inside though. “Do you need a hand?” He nods at the stack of pizzas. They’ve ordered five, because Niall and Maren both missed lunch for other classes, and anything leftover Louis and Niall can have for dinner.

It’s weirder to say no, than it is to say yes, right?

Louis offers him a smile, only a little shaky. “That’d be great, thanks.” The delivery guy takes his money and passes the boxes to Harry. Louis steps aside so that Harry can come inside, then shuts the door behind. “Just bring them in here,” he points to the kitchen, and as Harry is putting the boxes down on the bench, Louis slips past him and goes for the cupboard. “I’ll grab some plates.”

Harry looks around the kitchen. “Do we have drinks?”

They’d forgotten to order any with the pizza. “Uh, we have water?”

Unbothered, Harry says, “That’s perfect. Cups?”

“In there.” Louis points him in the right direction, and Harry pulls a few glasses out.

Once he’s got five, he turns to Louis again. “Are we eating from the boxes?”

For a moment, Louis worries about answering. Is Harry going to judge him if he says yes? He shakes himself out of it though. Harry may be a bit of a grey area right now, but he’s still a university student in his twenties. He’s not going to mind eating out of the pizza boxes. “Yeah, think that’s probably best. Might get some towels or something.” Immediately, Louis flushes. _Some towels?_ What the fuck? “Uh. For the crumbs?”

Why is he still talking?

Harry hums. “Good idea.”

That makes Louis doubletake. He can’t help but scrunch his face up a little. _Is_ it a good idea? Instead of replying, and digging himself even further into a hole, Louis grabs a bunch of paper towel from near the sink and puts it on top of the pizza boxes, before picking the stack up. It’s only then that he uses his brain, and —

“Could you, uh?” he stops himself. What is he doing? “Um. Don’t worry.”

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

“No,” Harry says. “What is it?”

Louis chews on his lips. “I was gonna ask, uh. The towels are in the hall cupboard. Would you mind?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Of course.”

Doing his best to point with his chin, Louis motions towards the corridor. “It’s just down—”

“—I’ve got it.” Harry’s moving before Louis’ even finished speaking, heading down the hall with an easy confidence that indicate he _remembers the way._ A very vivid memory, the two of them stumbling, tripping down the same corridor, bumping into walls and pausing to rub against one anything, flashes through Louis’ head.

He can’t help the flaming blush that rises quickly in his cheeks. “Oh. Right.”

Now that he’s thinking about it, he can’t bloody stop. It’s been manageable, ignoring those thoughts, the last few weeks. Harry’s been on Louis’ mind, of course, but his lack of physical presence meant that Louis could push the thoughts aside. Having him here, now, so close — well, it’s not helping _at all._  

For a moment, Louis just stands in the kitchen, entirely unsure what to do, or where to go. His brain, ticking a few seconds behind the rest of the world, only catches up when he hears the linen closet open. He certainly doesn’t want to be standing around like a knob when Harry returns with the towels, and it’s his fear of that occurring that kicks him into motion.

“‘I’m just gonna…” He’s talking to no one. There’s no one with him. Snapping his jaw shut, kicking himself, he walks through to the living room where the others are all sat, chatting away.

“Pizza!” Niall whoops when he sees him.

Then it’s a bit of a mad scramble to hand everything out. They’ve ordered three different kinds — pepperoni, margherita and vegetarian — to keep everyone happy, and it definitely does the trick. By the time Harry follows through the door, towels in hand, the living room is mostly silent; conversation abandoned in favour of chowing down.

Harry passes out the towels and then settles on the couch next to Maren. Louis and Niall are sitting on the floor, leaving the two spots on the couch and their shabby beanbag for their guests. They’ve got a cheap little coffee table — a hand-me-down from Niall’s brother — square in the middle of them, currently blanketed by boxes of pizza.

Once they’ve all finished eating, they set the pizza boxes aside and get out their assignments. Louis’ been texting with Maren and Kasey to make sure that they’re keeping their findings and arguments consistent across the reviews, but they haven’t shared their finished products yet. It stays quiet in the room as the sections are passed around, everyone taking a chance to read what’s been put together so far.

Louis lets out a sigh of relief when his gets the tick of approval. He’s so happy, in fact, that he lets his body drop down onto the floor.

Niall smacks him lightly on the knee. “Yeah, yeah, don’t get too comfy. We’re not done yet, just keep in mind.”

Content, Louis closes his eyes. He gestures vaguely to where Maren and Kasey are sitting. “We are.”  

“You are bloody not,” Niall sounds indignant, but Louis can tell he’s putting it on. “We’ve got heaps of editing to do.”

Louis waves a hand in the air. “That’s the easy bit.”

“Yeah? Then why’d you go over your bit ten-thousand bloody times?”

This time, Louis refuses to blush. There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting his paper to be good, and there’s no way Harry’s gonna know it has anything to do with him. “I like to be thorough.”

Niall grumbles. “Well, you better like being thorough next week, cause we’re gonna need you to be.”

Louis reaches out blind, and finds Niall’s knee to pat. “I promise.” He gets shoved away for his troubles, but there’s no heart behind it, so he laughs.

He does open his eyes again when they start to discuss what they need in the introduction and conclusion. It’s all consistent with the original plan they mapped out, but now that there are actual words on paper it gets a little bit more granular. He and Maren disagree for about ten minutes about the wording of an argument in section two, but Niall manages to rephrase Louis’ argument in a way that somehow communicates it better, and they realise they’re basically fighting for the same thing.

It takes them about an hour to get through everything. As they’re winding down, Louis starts to look at the pizza clean-up. He transfers the untouched slices into their own boxes, leaving three filled with crusts and crumbs. They’ve gone through almost half of each pizza, which means he and Niall will have almost two and half pizzas left, albeit of mixed and matched slices.

“Anyone want any more before I put it away?” He holds up the leftovers.

Kasey looks at her phone. “Uh, how long does it take to get to campus from here?”

Louis and Niall look at each other before they answer, as if they can each verify the time. “Like twenty minutes?” Louis says, emboldened by Niall’s nod. “On the bus.”

“Wicked,” Kasey leans over and takes a slice. “I might hang around for a halfer, if that’s cool? Your place is way nicer than the courtyard outside my class.”

Niall snorts. “Bloody hope so.”

“Harry, you want to stick around with me?” Kasey asks.

Louis’ catches Harry’s gaze flick to him before he says, “Uh. Yeah, that’d be great.”

Kasey settles back into the couch, munching on her pizza. “Cool.”

Surprisingly, Harry doesn’t look away from Louis. Instead he pushes himself up from the couch and reaches out a hand to help Louis’ stand up. “You need a hand cleaning?”

It’s not like Louis can just ignore the hand he’s being offered. The others would immediately know something was up, more than they already do now. He doesn’t want to ignore it, either. There’s nothing he wants more than to touch Harry, if he’s honest, and if this is all he’ll get, he’s going to bloody take it.

He pulls himself up, grasping Harry’s warm hand. He makes a point not to hold on, though, shooting Harry a quick smile. “Cheers,” he looks around at the other empty pizza boxes. “I should be fine—” he starts to say, but Harry’s already bending over to pick them up for him. “Uh, thanks.” For the second time in as many hours, Louis leads Harry into the kitchen with pizza boxes in his hands. “Just put it on the bench, I’ll take care of it.”

Harry does, but he doesn’t leave. He walks over to the boxes that Louis’ already set down. “You want these in the fridge?” He waits for Louis to nod before he opens the fridge, and Louis tries to remember if he has any gross food in there.

He stops himself seconds later. How can he be insecure about the contents of his _fridge_?

As he starts to fill the sink, Harry fits the pizza in, then turns to the other boxes. “Do you have a bin?” Then, a fraction of a second later, he goes pink “Sorry. Dumb question, of course you do. Uh, _where’s_ your bin?”

At least Louis’ not the only one stumbling. It makes him feel just a little better, being able to be the rational one, even just for a moment. He keeps his expression relaxed, as soft as possible. “Under the sink.”

He shifts his hips to the side so that Harry can reach the bin cupboard. Harry does, both of them apparently ignoring how close they have to stand for him to do so. Once the boxes are empty of pizza remains, he holds up the cardboard boxes.

“We can take these out with us,” he offers. Louis’ told Harry not to worry about it twice now. There’s not much point in saying it again. He can only be so ungrateful. “Are you sure?” he says instead.

Harry nods, “yeah, absolutely.” He puts the boxes on the bench closest to the door, then steps back from Louis again. Louis doesn’t miss the space that puts between them. Suddenly, the softness of the moment is gone. “Did you or Niall pay for the pizza?”

There's only one reason he’d ask, and Louis shakes his head preemptively.“Oh, no. You don’t need to pay — it’s more for us than you guys, we’ve got almost half of it saved for later.” Harry doesn’t look convinced. He opens his mouth, likely to complain, but Louis can’t hear it right now. He doesn’t want to argue about money with Harry. “Sounds like they’re setting the PlayStation up, if you wanna play?”

It’s as close to a ‘please leave’ as he can manage.

Harry’s eyes widen a little, hearing it, and Louis knows the message got through. He nods his head, gently, and then again, a bit stronger. “Right. Sure.”

Then he’s gone.

Louis has to stop washing up. He braces himself on the sink, dropping his head, and breathes. Anxiety seems to push at him from every angle, stifling. Why does he feel bad about this? He’s just — he’s trying to make this easier for Harry, and Harry’s not helping. He’s trying not to be weird. He packs away the rest of the pizza and folds the boxes up. He thinks about leaving them at the front door, like Harry mentioned, but it feels strange to ask Harry to do that, even if he offered. He settles for shoving them in the recycling bin — he and Niall can take it out later — when he glances at the counter.

Harry’s left a twenty dollar note on the bench, and fuck if it doesn’t make Louis want to cry.

💔

The next week passes quickly. Louis doesn’t have much to do and focuses more on his other classes. The Sunday before their next class, Niall and Harry email through their bits and Kasey puts it all together. She emails it to Louis to edit, and then to Maren to double check Louis’ edits. Once it’s done, Maren sends them all back the final copy to submit.

Then it’s finished.

It’s not disappointment that settles in Louis’ stomach, but it’s something similar. Regret mixed with just a little dread, and a resigned kind of sadness. It’s not like he’ll never see Harry again, of course, but he certainly won’t see Harry as often. Maybe in passing, on campus or in the library, but not every week, sitting near each other. Unless they have another class together, but they’re doing completely different degrees. The chances of them having another elective in common — well, it’s not something Louis is prepared to bet on.

So, when Maren suggests they all go to a party, as a last hurrah and to finally let loose after working so hard, Louis can’t say no. It’s a little pathetic, maybe, but he wants to drink in this time with Harry while he can.

The party is at one of Maren’s friends’ houses, just a little off campus, but on the opposite side to Louis and Niall’s place. He and Niall get an Uber there, both with their hands full of drinks.

“We’re celebrating!” Niall says, as he tries to balance his two six packs on top of one another. “It’s time to treat ourselves!”

Louis can’t argue with that.

When they do get there, the house is practically overflowing with people. Maren’s friends share a three bedroom, with a massive deck out the front and a huge grassy backyard. It’s pretty warm outside, especially for October, so people are milling about near the door as they go inside.

“I’m gonna find Maren.” In a feat of absolute strength Louis has never seen before, Niall takes Louis’ drinks on top of his own. “You good?”

Louis reaches into the slab that Niall’s just taken, pulling out the first of his drinks. “Am now.”

Niall shoots him a grin, apparently unconcerned that he’s carrying what must be almost his bodyweight in alcohol and walks easily towards the kitchen.

Louis quickly finds a couch, and a dog, in that order. He settles there, using his keys to open his drink, and buries his free hand in the dog’s fur. It’s very soft, and very fluffy, and certainly leaving a shitload of dog hair on his jeans, but Louis doesn’t mind. The dog, as is quite standard with parties like this, is very popular which makes Louis popular by association. A few girls sit to chat, their high heels already hurting to stand in, and chat happily to Louis while they do.

Kasey swings past the couch to say hello, with a startlingly pink drink in her hand, and then floats off to see her other friends. He sees Niall a few times as well, with Maren and some of his other band friends, always laughing at the top of his lungs.

It would be nice to be laughing along with him, but that feeling, his Harry feeling, hasn’t gone anywhere. Awareness sings at the back of his mind, like he’s constantly scanning for Harry’s arrival, no matter how much he wants to distract himself.

Harry does arrive not long after, which solves that problem but brings on a whole new set of issues. He says hello to a few people, at which point Louis really forces himself to focus on the conversation he’s having. He can’t just zero in on Harry for the entire evening, he’s not actually a creep.

He actually manages quite well, for about half an hour. He chats to the girls who’ve sat near him, about their classes and his, and their upcoming exams. They’re nice — one of them’s got an ex-boyfriend at the party who she doesn’t want to get back with, per say, but she doesn’t want him to hook up with anyone else. It’s more than enough drama to chat about.

He’s surprised, then, when Harry arrives at his side of the couch. He leans his hip against the armrest and offers Louis a beer. “Hey.”

Louis stands up and takes the beer with a smile. He’d finished his first, lukewarm, ten minutes ago. “Hey.”

Harry’s bites his lip, chewing at it like it’s a well-formed habit. “Your bit of the paper, it was good.”

“Oh,” that takes Louis a little by surprise. “Thanks. So was yours.”

“Cheers.”

They drift into silence, at least between them. The rest of the party buzzes on around them, and Louis’ blood rushes along with it. Harry’s come over to speak to him, and it doesn’t seem like it’s about Louis being too obvious. That’s a good sign?

“It was fun, you know. Working with you,” Harry says.

Louis can’t help but smile. “Yeah?” That’s a surprise as well, that Harry had fun despite the stifling awkwardness that caught them at every turn.

Harry nods. “Yeah, for sure.” He smiles at Louis, but it fades after a moment, turning into something less certain. “I hope you didn’t mind it too much.”

That’s what he’s worried about. Louis could almost laugh. He shakes his head quickly. “I didn’t. I definitely didn’t.”

He’s not even lying. Sure, this tenseness between them was difficult to bear, but Louis would push through it all again to get to this point.

Harry’s face softens. “Oh. Good.” He nods again, a little smile blooming on his face. “I’m glad.”

Louis believes him. It’s all in the way that Harry ducks his head, looking down to the floor and then back up again. His face is wide open, vulnerable in a way that Louis never allows, and it makes Louis feel brave. If he and Harry aren’t going to see each other like this again, then there’s no time like now to apologise for everything.

“I’m sorry I was awkward, at times.” Louis’ heart thuds as he says it. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Still impossibly soft, Harry shakes his head. His curls bounce with it. “It wasn’t your fault. I was… weird, too.”  

Louis huffs out a laugh, not at Harry, but at both of them. “It’s a weird situation.”

“Yeah,” Harry catches the laugh straight away. “You can say that again.”

“I think we did okay, though,” Louis says. “All things considered.”

It feels a bit strange, to be joking like this with Harry. It does still feel a bit raw, to talk about what happened between them as if it’s completely funny. It’s not, at least it isn’t to Louis yet. But this is probably the first in many steps to healing that, right?

When Harry smiles, it’s something easy. “Me too.”

Louis takes a long sip of his drink. He doesn’t really know where to go from there, what you can say after you laugh about a moment like that, but he also doesn’t want Harry to stop talking to him. It’s hard.

Harry doesn’t leave, though. He takes a healthy sip of his own beer, then clears his throat. “Sorry, though,” the words spill out of him, rushed. “For all of that.”

It’s as if all of the air in the room is suddenly sucked out of the windows.

“Oh, um,” Louis forces himself to swallow around a dry throat. “Really? For _all_ of it?”

He shouldn’t have come.

Harry’s eyes go wide with panic. “Oh. Oh! No, not like. I’m not sorry for sleeping with you,” and, oh, wow, that’s the first time either of them has said it out loud, “that’s not what I meant.”

Louis’ lungs unfreeze, slowly. “Okay, right. Uh, me neither.”

Harry’s cheeks have gone pink. Louis’ knows the feeling. “I just meant,” Harry seems to struggle for the words, his eyes mapping out the floor like he’s searching for what to say. “I’m sorry for, you know, misinterpreting things.”

Now Louis stares at his feet. The only thing worse than Harry not wanting something long term with him is Harry apologising. “Oh, Jesus,” Louis says, hasty. “No, you don’t have to apologise. That’s not your fault.”

His gaze darts up for a second, just so he can get an idea of what Harry’s feeling. It’s enough to catch Harry scratching a hand across the back of his neck.

“It is, a little bit,” he says. “I should have been more clear.”

It would be nice, so, so nice, if the floor opened right now. What a pleasure that would be.

“I mean, you were clear enough.” Louis can’t think of a sign much clearer than sneaking out in the morning. Louis was the one who should have said something, who should have explained. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Harry laughs. It’s a little more brittle than before, but it’s genuine. There’s that, at least. “Maybe we should have just talked.” He says it easily, as if Louis hasn’t been wishing that they’d talked every day since. “Seems like that would have solved all our problems.”

Louis hums, because at first that’s the only noise he can trust himself with. “Mhmm,” then, when he’s thought a bit more, “maybe.” How to change the subject? “This term’s been alright though.”

“Has it?” Harry’s eyes are light, happy. Louis’ a bit jealous.

Louis shrugs. “It’s been a bit weird. But not, like, bad. And we smashed the project, that’s what really matters.”

“True,” Harry says. “It was good, working together. We’re a good team.”

It’s so strange, to hear such lovely and encouraging words, and to feel let down by them. He isn’t hurt, not really, because none of this is Harry’s fault. It’s good that Harry thinks they make a good team, even if it’s in not quite the way Louis’ wants.

“We could, uh.” Come on, now’s not the time to be a coward. “We could hang out again, if you want?”

Harry’s eyebrows go up a little. “Yeah?”

He sounds so surprised that Louis can’t help but backtrack. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, I understand. But it’s, it’s like you said, we made a good team. There’s no need to let a silly little crush get in the way of that.”

Oh. That was the wrong thing to say.

Harry rocks back on his heels, a physical reaction to Louis’ words. Why did he say crush?

Fuck.

“I’ll get over it, I will.” The words spill out of him, a cup overflowing, in his haste to stop Harry looking at him like that. “It’s like you said, I just. Well, I assumed, and.” He’s stumbling over the words now, tripping.

He’s caught, frozen, when Harry says, “Wait. _You’ll_ get over it?”

Louis blinks, heart thundering. “Uh, yeah.”

Harry is frowning, his brows pulled all the way down now, crinkled in the middle, and Louis would very much like that to stop.

“You?” Harry repeats.

Louis swallows and takes a step back. “Okay.” His face is hot, and he’s acutely aware of the blood rushing past his ears. “I’m sorry if that’s, uh, insulting? But it’s not — I get it, you know. You’re not interested.”

Harry holds both his hands up in the air, effectively silencing him. For a moment, he only stares at Louis, eyes stern. Then he says, very slowly, “ _I’m_ not interested.”

Louis stares at him. “What’s happening right now?”

Harry throws his arms up, a dangerous move considering the open bottle of alcohol in his hand. He doesn’t even seem to notice. “I’m very interested!”

And oh.

That’s.

That’s?

Overwhelmed now in a very different way, Louis can’t even find the air in his lungs that’s required to speak. He tries to ask ‘what?’ but it comes out as a puff of air. “ _Wh_ a—?” He has to stop, breathe some more. Try again. “You are?”

“Yes!” Harry’s talking loudly, very loudly, and they’re attracting some attention from the people around them. Louis can’t think about that right now. “That’s literally what we’ve been talking about this entire time.”

Louis is.

He’s floored.

“It absolutely is not.”

Harry seems equally as thrown. He’s not quite jumping about, but he’s moving, as if he wants to pace. He seems to sate that urge with rather grand hand gestures. “You said — I said — why didn’t you message me?”

“I don’t have your number!”

“I gave it to you.”

Panic sings through Louis’ veins. It’s a good panic, maybe. A good panic that’s making him feel like he’s on fire. “No, you didn’t.”

Louis watches as a grin blooms wide on Harry’s cheeks, pulling at the dimples so hard it looks like it might hurt. Louis wants to smile with him, but he needs to be sure he understands. He needs to know that what’s happening right now, this conversation, that it means what he thinks it might mean,

“I did, on the. In the morning.” Harry’s nodding, as if that will reassure Louis of the truth behind his words. “I wrote a note. I left it on your bed.”

There is a very, very real chance that Louis is going to pass out. “You did?”

Harry nods. He’s starting to calm down, along with the air around them. “Yeah.”

Breathing deeply, Louis says, “I didn’t get it.”

“You didn’t?”

Louis shakes his head. “No. I thought you, like.” Louis stops there, unsure how to explain to Harry that he’d assumed the worst.

Harry connects the dots. “Oh. Oh, shit.”

His face falls, and Louis rushes to fix it. “But you didn’t! You. What did the note say?”

That makes Harry blush a little, which is truly a lovely sight to behold. He glances at the floor. “Uh, just to call me? And that, uh, maybe we could do it again sometimes?” Louis can’t help but raise his eyebrows at that, which turns Harry’s cheeks even pinker. “Not like. Not like _that._ I just meant, you know, we could get coffee or something.”

Warmth is blooming in Louis’ chest, divine. He’s starting to grin just like Harry, as the truth of it all starts to settle.

“You wanted to get coffee?” he just has to be _sure._ “Like a date?”

Harry’s shoulders soften, along with his eyes. They’re warm, inviting, and Louis wants to curl up in them. “Yeah,” he says, and he sounds endeared. “Like a date.”

The frantic quality of their conversation gone, all that is left is an impossible fondness in the air. They are such fucking idiots, but Louis doesn’t even have time to worry about that. It’s been ten weeks of working together, of them both assuming the worst, and of neither of them being brave enough to say anything.

They’ve wasted enough time.

“What about a gin and tonic?”

Harry startles. “What?”

Louis holds up his beer. “I brought some gin, for tonight.” He glances around the house again, still buzzing with activity. No one is paying them any mind now that they’ve quietened down again. “I don’t think we’ll be able to find a coffee this time of night. But a gin and tonic, I can do.”

Harry bites on his lips again. He hasn’t looked away from Louis in a long time. “That would be lovely.”

Neither of them moves. It’s silly, how long Louis wants to bask in this moment. It doesn’t feel real, almost, that the two of them might want this. That Harry _wants_ this. Louis wants to linger with that for a moment longer, and Harry seems to share that sentiment.

Well, for a moment.

It’s Harry who breaks the silence. He takes a strange half step, edging into Louis’ space like he’s not sure if it’s allowed. “Can I—?” Another half-step. His hands come up, reaching for Louis, curving around the line of Louis’ jaw. His fingers thread through Louis’ hair. “Can I just—?”

Louis closes the gap between them before Harry can finish, leaning forwards and pressing their lips together.

It’s not their first kiss, and it doesn’t feel like it. They sink into one another with ease, Louis’ hands coming up to clutch at Harry’s wrists, then his shoulders, then his waist. It’s soft, and deep, and would last longer if not for the way that Harry’s lips curl into a smile against Louis’.

He pulls back, barely an inch. “I can’t believe have badly we fucked this up.”

Louis huffs a laugh, intently aware of how close they still are. “We really, _really_ should have talked.”

Harry nods. The move rubs his nose against Louis’, and when he notices he does it again. “Words. Got it. We’ll know for next time.”

He doesn’t give Louis time to laugh at that, swooping in and kissing him some more. He tastes like beer, which isn’t the most pleasant taste in the world, but it’s also _Harry_ so Louis can’t bring himself to give a shit. He nips on Harry’s lip, the same way he’s been watching Harry do for seven, long and torturous weeks. The little noise that earns him, well. That’ll stay with him.

Then, a thought occurs. Louis pulls away. “Wait,” he says, suddenly wanting to check in. Open communication starts now. “Does that mean you want to talk now?”

He watches as Harry swallows, the motion making his throat bob. Harry isn’t looking at Louis - or, more to be more specific, isn’t looking Louis in the eye. His gaze is instead caught of Louis’ lips, like he can’t possibly look away.

“Uh,” Harry blinks a few times. Louis can honestly see the thoughts as they straighten behind Harry’s eyes, as he finds the right words to reply. “No? I’m, uh, pretty good with not talking right now.”

Louis licks his lips and watches as Harry’s eyes darken. It’s enough to make Louis bold.

“Did you want to get out of here? We could, uh, not talk some more?”

He watches Harry’s jaw clench as he nods. Louis doesn’t hesitate, taking his hand and threading his fingers through Harry’s. He gets the Uber app up on his phone and requests a ride, before flicking his messages open.

 _Leaving early_ , he texts to Niall. _My drinks are your drinks._

He gets a string of winking faces in reply. Then, _fuck yeah, get in._

They stand on the curb, crowding into each other’s space. Harry holds Louis at the waist, fingers digging in, sneaking under the hem of Louis’ shirt. Louis takes the opportunity to tug at the short strands of hair at Harry’s neck, and scrape his teeth at Harry’s jaw.

The Uber honks at them when it arrives. Shame faced, they slide into the backseat. Louis keeps a hard grip on Harry’s hand, but they don’t touch other than that. They don’t need to traumatise the poor driver, after all. They don’t talk much. Anticipation curls hot in Louis’ chest, his skin feeling tight, as he they get closer to his house. He’s thought about this, so much, too much, all through the lens that he’d never get to have it again. To see Harry sitting next to him, to feel his fingers wrapped around Louis’, it steals his breath away.

The Uber driver seems as glad to have gotten them home as they are, and they stumble out with a quick shout of ‘thanks!’ Then Harry’s on his again. He brings his warm body up against Louis as Louis tries to unlock the door, his hands mapping out Louis’ waist, chest, ass, while he nips at Louis’ neck. When Louis does get the door to cooperate, Harry guides him through it, then spins him around to press him against the wall and kick the door closed behind them.

“Your room?” he mumbles at Louis’ lips.

Louis nods, then quickly stops, because it makes kissing a little bit more difficult. “Please.”

He gets almost dizzy when it becomes quickly apparently Harry remembers the way. Dazed, Louis practically chases Harry up the stairs and down the corridor to his room. He closes his bedroom door after them as well; he doesn’t want Niall getting a nasty surprise if he walks past Louis’ room tomorrow. More than that he knows he won’t want to come back to the door once he and Harry make it to the bed.

Harry spins around, reaching for him, tugging at the fabric of Louis’ shirt. “C’mon, c’mere,” he mumbles, before kissing Louis again. He makes fists in Louis’ lapel, holding him close even as Louis starts to push him back towards the bed. He wobbles a bit when the back of his knees hit the side of the bed, but Louis keeps him steady as he guides him down.

Once Harry’s sitting, Louis wastes no time in climbing into his lap, one knee either side. Harry’s hands fall to Louis’ ass again, as Louis clutches at his neck, his shoulders, biting at Harry’s lip again. Harry makes these bloody wonderful little noises, sweet almost-moans that he doesn’t even seem totally aware of. Louis chases them, mapping a line from Harry’s lips to his jaw, down his neck and to his collarbone.

As soon as he encounters Harry’s t-shirt, he realises how badly he needs it off. His fingers scramble for Harry’s hem, tugging it up, up, up, until Harry huffs a laugh into Louis’ ear and lifts up his arms.

“This,” Louis tries to explain himself. “I need. It needs to go.”

He tugs it over Harry’s head, mussing up his hair and making Harry laugh. His eyes are so bright, Louis wants to swim in them. And his dimples, Christ, his dimples.

Frenetic, Louis balls Harry’s tee up and tosses it across the room. He dives back in, desperate to touch and kiss as much of the free skin he can find there, and Harry starts to guide his hips, digging his fingers into Louis’ ass and encouraging him to move. He grinds down on Harry’s lap, both of them making helpless noises now, as electricity climbs up Louis’ spine.

“What, mhmm—” Harry sounds breathless, dazed, “—what do you want?”

Everything, Louis thinks. Fucking _everything._

But for now, “Can I blow you?” he asks. He hasn’t stopped moving his hips, pressing down against  Harry’s dick, revelling in the way it makes Harry’s eyelids flutter. He dips in for another kiss, helpless to resist.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry mumbles against Louis’ lips.

Urgent, Louis pushes at little at Harry’s shoulders. “Come on,” he lifts his weight up off Harry’s lap. “Get up on the bed.”

Harry obliges, shuffling his bum back and laying down, resting his head on Louis’ pillows. Louis doesn’t waste his time, moving straight to Harry’s belt buckle and undoing it swiftly. He’s pulled down Harry’s fly, working at tugging his pants off his hips, when Harry laughs. “Are you gonna lose any of your clothes?”

Louis shoots him a sly grin. He pauses in his task, tugging his own shirt over his head. The air is cold, but Louis doesn’t feel it. “Better?”

Harry stares at him hungrily. “Much.”

Getting back to Harry’s pants, Louis tugs them down and finally manages to pull them off of Harry’s legs. Then he crawls onto the bed, on all fours, so he can hover nicely over Harry’s groin. He’s hard, his length flat against his belly, and Louis can’t stop staring.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” Harry whines.

Louis doesn’t look at him. Distracted, he says, “I’m a little busy.” He doesn’t wait for Harry to respond before taking him in his mouth.

The little jump of Harry’s hips, and the exquisite groan that Harry makes, is gratifying to say the least. His fingers thread through Louis hair, rubbing at his scalp as Louis swirls his tongue around his tip. Louis’ pretty good at this, and it’s a skill he wasn’t able to show off in their last encounter. Being able to elicit these noises from Harry, the soft little whimpers that float through the air, it’s almost as good as finally getting his mouth on Harry again. Almost.

Harry’s hand moves from Louis’ hair, tracking down his bare back and scratching the skin there, before coming to the waist of Louis’ pants. He takes a handful of Louis’ ass, almost a massage, his finger pressing against Louis’ hole through the fabric. That makes Louis cry out, pulling off for a moment so that he can push back into Harry’s hand.

“God, I want to fuck you,” Harry groans.

Louis drops his head to Harry’s hip, panting, dizzy. When he gets control of himself, though, he shakes his head, still pressed against Harry’s skin. “Already done that,” he says. “It’s my turn.”

Harry’s hand stills, and Louis opens his eyes to look up at him. He looks dazed, his lips bitten red, his face flushed. “Yeah?”

Louis nods, suddenly a little more serious. “If you want?”

Harry nods, very fast. “I want. I definitely want.”

Louis has to bite at Harry’s hip, just to control himself after that. He takes a deep breath, then another, then gets back to Harry’s dick, licking up the underside. It makes Harry shout.

Louis sucks on him for a bit longer, using a free hand to slip under Harry’s thigh and prop it up. He presses his thumb at Harry’s taint, then skating his finger across Harry’s hole. That’s about when Harry starts swearing, pulling at Louis’ hair again and saying, “Up, up, _up_.”

When Louis is up on his level, Harry rises half up to meet him and claim Louis’ lips again. It’s messy, wet and desperate now, even more than before. When Harry breaks away, it’s only to tug at Louis’ pants. “These. Off. Now.”

It’s bloody torture to pull away, but after a moment Louis forces himself to listen. He stumbles to his feet, shucking his pants and almost falling over in his haste. That makes Harry bark a laugh, and as soon as Louis’ got one leg free Harry pulls him back on the bed.

One of Louis’ pant legs stays wrapped around his ankle. “ _Oomph_!” he says, as he falls into Harry’s space. “Wait, Harry. My pants.”

Harry shuts him up. “Don’t care. Fuck me.”

Louis promptly forgets about his pants. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay, fuck yeah.”

He leans across Harry and sticks his hand down the crack between his mattress and the bed frame. Without shame, he pulls his lube out from its place, ignoring Harry’s sharp laugh when he realises what Louis’ doing.

“Kept there for easy access?”

Harry’s joking, but Louis shrugs and says, “I like a finger or two before bed sometimes.” Harry’s smile vanishes, his jaw snapping shut in an instant and his eyes going very wide. To say that he leaps on Louis would be an understatement.

He nips at Louis’ chest, pressing him down into the bed and straddling Louis’ finally bare hips. He bites and licks and Louis’ nipples. “You can’t just say that, holy shit.”

Louis smirks, threading the fingers of his free hand into Harry’s hair. “Think I can.” He pinches Harry’s earlobe, playful. “Think I just did, actually.”

Harry bites at Louis’ ribs. “Stop looking so smug.”

“Shan’t,” Louis says.

Harry doesn’t look too bothered. He reaches up and taps at the lube in Louis’ hand. “You gonna use this?”

It’s a challenge, and one that Louis is more than happy to rise to. He shoves at Harry’s shoulder, rolling them over so that he’s the only looking down at Harry, and kisses him just because he can. He only pulls away to shuffle down Harry’s body. “So impatient, jeez.”

He licks at Harry’s belly, just to watch the muscles quiver. Harry squeals a little, gleeful. So, he’s ticklish, then. Information to save for later.

Louis pushes at Harry’s thighs again, wriggling until he’s comfortable between them. He squirts a healthy amount of the lube onto his fingers, only getting a little distracted when he kisses Harry’s cock. He massages Harry’s hole first, gently at first but with building pressure. Harry rocks back against him, so much so that the slide of Louis first finger inside is easy, almost effortless. By the time Louis has followed up, a second finger, then a third, Harry is all but fucking himself on Louis’ hand, and Louis’ dick is leaking against the sheets.

“Good?” Louis checks.

Harry sounds wild. “Good. So good. Get the fuck up here.”

And who could argue with that. Louis climbs up Harry’s body once more, teething at Harry’s hip, rib, nipple, neck, on his way. He grabs a condom, and Harry leans up to kiss him while he puts it on, then drops back down when Louis’ ready. Harry’s open legs are a cradle for Louis’ hips, and he sinks into them. He grinds against Harry for a moment, his eyes shuttering close as he buries his face in Harry neck. Then his dick is against Harry’s hole, and they’re moving together before either of them know about it.

As Louis presses inside, Harry’s fingers bruise at his arms. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck.”

He’s sweaty, at the place when Louis’ face is buried, the line of his hair and just below his ear. It’s intoxicating; just Harry, all his. Louis can’t think of words, let alone gasp them out. Harry is hot, tight and warm, and Louis wants to just bury himself inside.

It all gets a little desperate, after that. Louis’ thrusts speed up, Harry rising his hips to meet them, both of them letting out their own little noises. The bed starts to rock as they build a rhythm, and the headboard thumps against the wall. Harry angles his hips up a little, then shouts on Louis’ next thrust as it lands in exactly the right place. From here, it only builds, and builds, faster and hotter and fucking divine, until Harry bites down on Louis’ shoulder, shuddering and clenching around Louis as he comes.

He relaxes a little, after, but doesn’t fade at all in his responsiveness. In fact, that becomes more focused now that Harry’s head seems clearer. He grasps at Louis’ ass, urging him in harder and deeper, until Louis’ vision blurs a little and fuck, he’s coming too, pressed as far inside Harry as he can.

The slump into one another, exhausted. Harry pets at Louis’ hair for a little while, holding him when he is while the sweat on their bodies cool. They lie there, for ten minutes or more, until Harry breaks the soft silence that surrounds them.

“Just to be clear,” he says, sounding lovely, and soft, and sated. “I want to date you.” Louis huffs a laugh against his chest, which makes Harry giggle with him. “Sorry,” Harry follows up. “I just wanted to be clear.”

“I want to date you too,” Louis says.

Harry presses a kiss to Louis’ hair. “Good. Glad we had this talk.”

And, even though it’s a bit overdue, Louis’ impossibly glad too.

❤

Niall slams their paper down on the table in front of them, a mad grin on his face. Louis, who had been shamelessly whispering into Harry’s ear, jumps about five feet in the air. “Holy shit!”

“If you two disgusting animals would cease in touching each other for five minutes,” Niall ignores him. “I’ve got our marks back.”

Harry leans forward. He’s got his arm draped over Louis’ shoulders, so Louis comes right along with him. “Good news?” He’s clearly using Niall’s grin as a barometer for their performance.

“I haven’t seen the individual marks, but we smashed the group one.” Niall shuffles the papers, passing them over to Harry and Louis, just as Kasey and Maren pull up their chairs. It’s good news; they’re been graded separately on their own parts, with the last thirty percent graded on their group performance.

Reluctant to pull himself away from Harry, Louis uses his free arm to flick through his paper. His other arm is nestled tightly around Harry’s waist. They’re being absolutely insufferable, he knows, but they’ve kind of earned it.

He got an eighty-one, which is just above the line for a distinction. He didn’t do quite as well on his parts by themselves, only a seventy-three, but the group’s good performance has brought his total up.

Harry squeezes his shoulder. “Happy?”

Louis sets the paper down, leaning against Harry’s warm chest. “Yeah,” he smiles at Harry. “Very.”

Niall, Kasey and Maren groan at once, but Louis doesn't hear it. All he can see is the soft blush on Harry’s cheeks, and the pleased dimple in his cheeks.

Niall waves a finger in his face. “You get two more weeks, okay? You can be this obnoxious for two more weeks. After that, I reserve the right to kick you out.”

That, of course, can’t go without comment. Louis puffs up his chest, indignant but grinning as he rises to be obvious bait. He doesn’t move away from Harry, though, and that’s the real truth isn’t it?

They’re going to be pretty obnoxious for long while yet.

❤

**Author's Note:**

> yo, I am on a roll rn and your comments and feedback are like eighty-percent the reason!!! please leave your thoughts! 
> 
> also, please boost this fic by reblogging the fic post [here](https://bottomlinsons.tumblr.com/post/184843277367)


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